I made a mistake yesterday, but I don’t hold it against myself. After all, it is better to do something than nothing. Something, at least, gives you information.
I went out expecting the best, and unprepared for the worst. That’s on me.
I brought with us a bridle, a bareback pad, and lunge line. That’s it. And everything was fine, until we got to the scary side of the arena, the one I assume is scariest for every horse everywhere, because it’s opposite the main gate and furthest from the herd and barn.
At that point, Tweed was sure he saw an imaginary cow with a plastic bag in its mouth running toward us. The one we saw two years ago, but now is only a memory. No cows. No bags. Just ghosts of the past.
But that was enough that he was wanting to run, buck, pull back, cut in, kick, and roll. And all I had was the tail end of my lunge rope, my body language, energy, and resolve. All of which was enough to turn it around, but not at all what would have been best in that situation. (Word to the wise, NEVER wrap the rope around your hand. I didn’t, and never do, but that first pull back would have taken my hand off if I had. I was thanking the gods of good training LAWS, which are a step above mere rules.)
Anyway, I worked him until he could do walk and trot transitions with no drama. And that was it. No bareback riding. All that tack went back, tail between its legs, to the tack room.
Fast Forward to today after I thought it through and came up with the title of this blog. All the good energy and intentions in the world are sometimes not enough for what you encounter, and certainly no substitute for time and training. It all goes hand-in-hand as much as heart-to-heart.
Tweed has been off for a couple months, as Katie got sick and couldn’t make it to our appointment, and he was feeling independent of me, a little herd bound, and excited to be in a big sand box where he wanted to LET LOOSE.
But today I was prepared, flag in hand, and a woman with a plan: work him where he is comfortable, and rest him where’s he not.
It made a big difference. He still had lots of energy, but I was able to more safely direct it over poles. He did try to roll again, but I got after him with the flag. He jumped up, pulled back, and I just told him to move right on along. When he realized he was outmatched, his respect re-emerged, along with his manners.
I will say, when I visualize what I’m asking for first, say the walk to trot, it goes smoother…when we’re tuned into each other.
When we were done, I took him into the round pen and released him for that long awaited roll in the sand.
Then I took him back to the barn where I’m going to rest him awhile. He looked a little off on his right front.
Above his stall, Wild Thing Dan was walking the edge of the stall fronts. (Don’t jump down and scare my boy!!)
All is well that ends well, ..for the prepared. Tumbleweed will be much more ready by the time Katie does arrive. At least we will have dealt with the false-spring zoomies and ghosts of past curious cows.
